Love is my Drug

5

AVA

I grabbed my bag and practically ran from the room. I had art next period, unfortunately with Aria in it. She had bullied me since second grade about how my parents were poor, and on drugs, and alcoholics. She didn't know about the beatings I received, though, and she was also unaware about how my dad slept with paid partners almost every night he could. I don't really know how he always got the money for the women he had hanging around the apartment. I guess the money came from one of his drinking buddies, probably his friend Hank, who was pretty wealthy, but for some odd reason liked to hang around with my dad.

When I get to art, I slip onto my stool at the back of the room. Aria then decides to saunter by, and spills everything out if my backpack.

"Oops, sorry! Totally didn't see that there. My bad." She then smiles wickedly at me, steps on all of my papers, and flounces to her seat. The art teacher, who totally loves Aria and her little groupies, glares at me and spends five minutes on 'why I can't be more perfect, like Aria. Aria is never late, never has accidents, never messes up.' I wish teachers could see students the way I see them. Then I wouldn't get in trouble as much for doing things I had no hand in doing. Oh, well. I guess nasty, rich girls will always be worshiped in the eyes of society. Once I finish gathering all of my stuff which Aria so graciously dumped on the floor for me, Mr. Siprian went on to say that for our next assignment we were to choose a model, and do a choarcol sketch of them from a full profile of 3/4 profile. I would probably be drawing Kaylee, again. Any assignment where we were to draw someone using a real life model, we chose each other. I chose her because I had no one else I could ask, and I guess she drew me because she felt bad that I had no one else to draw. Even my best friend pities me. I can't really blame her, though, it's really unintentional. I hate getting pitied, but I hate being treated like I don't matter. I guess I want someone to truly care about me.

"Ms. Wellings," snapped Mr. Siprian, "Did you hear a word I said, or were you too busy day dreaming? You may be here on a scholarship, but in no way does that make you better than everyone else. Why can't you be more like Miss Scott?" he ended his sentence with a sigh, at which point Aria decided to interrupt, "Mr. Siprian, not every one can be this, well, this amazing. Some people," she looked directly at me, "just don't know how to handle it." The teacher just grinned at her like some prized show pony. Great. He just had to mention that I was one of the only five scholarship kids who couldn't afford to pay for this over priced hell called private school.

The rest of class went ok, but occasionally Mr. Siprian would make a snarky comment about clumsiness, but aside from that, it went pretty smoothly. My next class was to aide for a freshman English teacher, which was practically sitting there redoing my freshman English class, without getting credit and without doing the work. Fourth period was a study hall in the library, so I pulled out the science rubric, and started to redesign the model. I was doing that in class, but when Noah had leaned over my shoulder, a freaked out, and my pencil scratched the paper, tearing it. I was so into my drawing, I had forgotten we were at school and had thought he was my dad, who was going to hit me. I sketched out and labeled a mountain, where our community could get fresh water, some wind turbines, for energy, garden areas, farms, and fruit orchards. I then drew a forest, so that the trees could be made into houses. I designed the village in a wheel, town hall at the center, flaring out into shops, then homes, then farms, cotton fields, the mountain, and meadows. The bell rang for lunch. Kaylee knew that if she couldn't find me at our lunch table, I'd be in the library. She came sauntering in with her chunky, combat boots, ripped fishnet tights, black faux-leather skater skirt, and a black and grey stripped crop top.

"Hey, nerd." she greets me. I grin.

"Hey, goth girl." I reply. her hand covers her heart in mock hurt.

"Your words wound me." she states dramatically. I shrug and make a 'so what' face. She throws her head back and laughs.

"C'mon, weirdo, lets go eat lunch." I pack up my things and we head out to the cafeteria.